


Refracting Light

by timelockedparadox



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Royalty AU, king AU, unrelated to literally anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2737469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelockedparadox/pseuds/timelockedparadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If a lowly thief like Ray had been summoned to the court of the High King himself, then he was surely marked for death. That is Ray’s automatic assumption. To him, there simply isn’t any other explanation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refracting Light

**Author's Note:**

> royalty au where ray started out as nothing  
> I wrote this a long time ago and it unfortunately doesn't connect to anything, sorry

Ray points the focus of his gaze downwards. The environment seems so potent to his senses, which are working overtime at the hand of the adrenaline coursing through his blood with every pound of his heart. His head feels light and each breath, at the expansion of his lungs, vaguely burns. Not quite a sting but a slow and steady burn over the fire fanned by the stress of evading and resisting capture.

At the edge of his vision, the room presents itself as plain and unthreatening. Rays of pale sunlight shoot through the clear windows at each side of the room, casting bright silhouettes on the floor. Cold seeps up from the floor into the air. Pain stings at his knees where the rough stone had met skin when the henchmen had shoved him to the ground. Two large shadows stretch across the floor in front on him. Ray tenses apprehensively, ready to be grabbed and roughly handled like inconsequential belongings. But even as the two shadows remain for a moment, a hand doesn’t coil tightly around his arm or hold his shoulder in an iron grip and yank him to his feet. The tension does not leave, however.

Ray keeps his head bowed and his mouth shut. At least for the time being.

A door opens at the side of the room behind his back. The slow groaning noise the hinges make are ugly and unpleasant to the ears. When the sound falters, sharp clacks that signal brisk footfalls replace it. The shadows shift oddly and Ray discerns from the movement and significant sound of rustling clothing that the two guards had bowed. A figure sweeps past them and drops into the large chair at the other side of the room. The guard have gone rigid and not moved since the door opened. The figure clicks his fingers and the lackeys back off, falling into position at the sides of the room.

Ray lifts his head curiously. The figure is a man taller than him, but stout and heavy-lidded with a well-groomed mustache and a crown on his head that cost more than Ray’s life. The rings on one of his fingers could have bought him several times over as well. Ray immediately identifies him as the High King of Achievement, Geoff.

If a lowly thief like Ray had been summoned to the court of the High King himself, then he was surely marked for death. That was Ray’s automatic assumption. To him, there simply isn’t any other explanation.

Ray twists his hands around in the restraints the guards had placed around his wrists, finding that they were cheap metal cuffs and easily maneuverable. Picking the lock would be a walk in the park as long as he could retrieve the tools he always kept stashed in his belt. Too many times had he been in situation like this. Maybe not in places as nice as the High King’s court, but he never failed in making a swift escape.

While the king speaks in a low voice with another lackey, Ray works expertly with the cuffs. The lock is located in an unusual spot on the cuffs and requires him to work at an odd angle. Irritation shows in the crease between his brows and clammy hands. Ray would curse if the situation allowed for it.

Then, the king turns his attention to Ray. “So. Any thoughts on why you’re here?”

“What?”

Geoff waves a hand in a lazy half-circle. “An offbeat rogue who deals in thievery, has years of training in manipulation and close quarters combat,” he describes smoothly. “Invisible on all radars, all the time. You’re what, mid-twenties?”

“Twenty-four,” Ray answers flatly. “So you’ve been tracking me.”

“With a limited scope and spottily, yeah. Would’ve found you sooner if you hadn’t left that slum in the east.”

He fumbles with the tools, almost dropping them. The break in composure nearly cost him his only chance at escape.

“Sorry for the inconvenience.” Ray flashes a taut smile.

Geoff merely shrugs before resting the side of his face on the topside of his closed fist. His attitude chipped at Ray’s nerves. Like their conversation is one that you have with your mother over green beans and inherited china plates and not one you have with a prisoner cuffed in the middle of your throne room surrounded by several muscled guards.

“Still don’t have a penny in the matter of your presence here.”

“Too many strikes, probably stole your mom’s wallet, want some retribution? Me dead, probably.”

“Good guess,” Geoff remarks.

“I _guess_ that means I win.”

Geoff narrows his eyes and goes to speak. A distinct _clink_ sound interrupts him. The restraints fall to the floor and Ray takes no time in acting. In one fluid movement, Ray retrieves the blade stashed in the inside of his boot and falls into a defensive position as the guards move to flank him. The blade points outward, his thumb rested on the end on the grip. They shifted uneasily, unwilling to make the first move, waiting on the command of their king.

Meanwhile, Geoff focused an intense look on Ray.

“Who’s this?”

The voice is unfamiliar. Ray spares a look to the far end of the room, where a man not much older than him stood. The first thing Ray notices is the bright green of his clothes. And his large nose.

Geoff sits up in his chair. “Gavin! I told you to wait in the hall—this is a private matter.”

Gavin doesn’t address that. He squints at Ray.

“What’s happening?” he asks more seriously.

The crease between Geoff’s brows deepens as they knit together. “We’re not discussing this Gavin.”

Gavin takes several steps forward. He is closer to Ray now. Theoretically, Ray take out Gavin in a few easy moves. Geoff seems to notice this too by the way he grips at the arms of his throne. Ray waits and holds his position, keeping the doors open to as many options as possible before acting.

Gavin seems to struggle with a few emotions for a moment. Then he turns to Ray.

“Who are you?”

Ray certainly didn’t expect him to address him. “I’m Ray,” he answers as evenly as possible. “Ray Narvaez, Jr.”

“Gav, what’re you doing?”

“What are you doing here, mate?”

“I’m a thief. I stole a lot of things from a lot of people. For a long time,” Ray answers. The stress puts an edge in his voice. “I got arrested and brought here.”

Gavin blanches, his expression twisting into that of surprise, anger, and finally disbelief. He looks at Geoff with his brows slightly pulled together and eyes wide.

“You said no more prisoners!”

“This isn’t like that! If you would just have listened and waited, I could have—“

“Offed him without telling me?”

“Lord, no, look—“

“Wait, you aren’t going to kill me?”

“No!” Geoff snaps. “For petty thievery? Waste of time,” he scoffs.

“Then what…?”

“I was _going to_ talk to you, get a feel for what you were like, then explain it to you. And, before you ask, the cuffs and guards were necessary to keep up the appearance and make sure you wouldn’t run off.”

“Explain _what_?”

“He wants to take you in. Bring you under his wing, teach you everything about the kingdom from Karm and back, while giving you a place to kip all the while. Like he did for me,” he adds with a shrug.

“ _Gavin_! I was planning on delivering that all slowly—you know what, no, shut up.” Geoff says. He turns back to Ray. “You’ve got skills and experience, kid. Stuff that this kingdom needs. And, uh, I figure since you don’t have much of a home you could, y’know, stay. Become a king someday, maybe.”

“Give up my entire life, which I’ve had because of _you_ —kings in their high castles, ruling over tiny towns like the one I grew up in—that I had to make for myself, going from the End and back a few times just to do that and almost getting killed more times than that, to _become you_.”

Geoff shifted. “Uh, yes?”

Ray paused, for dramatic effect, mostly.

“I accept.”


End file.
